


Skating in the Desert

by transkhoshekh



Category: Welcome to Night Vale, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU - Welcome to Night Vale Universe, Canon Divergence, Character's Name Spelled Viktor, Coping With Night Terrors, Coping with anxiety, Happy Ending, M/M, Radio Host!Victor, Scientist!Yuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11255763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transkhoshekh/pseuds/transkhoshekh
Summary: Viktor is Cecil, Yuuri is Carlos. Viktor is having vivid, anxiety inducing dreams. Yuuri believes they may be connected to the world inside the Dog Park, but is scared to approach Viktor with his ideas.





	1. Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight CW for descriptions of anxiety and nightmares in this chapter!

Viktor’s body felt tense, like he’d just been at the gym for a bone-crushing amount of hours. Maybe not hours - maybe days? The gym would never have allowed him that long, of course, but these past few nights were wearing on him in a way that might as well been a never-ending workout. He would have preferred that, actually - at least those familiar routines would have felt constructive or calming - the aches he was feeling now were just disconcerting, confusing. 

His body felt like someone had shoved him down and knocked the wind out of him over and over again, and his throat felt dry and raspy as if he'd ran a few miles. His heart was pounding, trying desperately to convince him he needed to do something - anything, everything, just don't hold still. 

In the past month, he had had 5 episodes like this, where he was suddenly awake and could have sworn his stomach had fallen down his abdomen and all the way to his feet with the dread he was feeling. He usually couldn’t breathe, sometimes for an abstract and wordless reason, sometimes with a more solid scene that had followed him into wakefulness. This morning in particular he was gifted a concrete terror by his brain - he been convinced that his house was burning down. When he’d finally willed his legs to move, he’d turned on every light in the house and scoured every room, closet, and cubby hole with an additional flashlight and smoke detector, trying to find the source of the fire that had been consuming him in his dreams. He collapsed on the couch finally, smoke detector curled tightly against his chest as his breath finally returned to normal - the combined exertion of panic and his frantic running was giving his heart a hard time pretty early in the morning, but it returned to it’s normal rhythm quickly. His athlete’s body still worked in his favor, even when his mind seemed to be rebelling against him.

Ever since this started, he’d waited hopefully for a news piece waiting on his desk about other citizen’s experiences with these nightmares - some sort of acknowledgment that he was not the only one dealing with this, and that soon there would be a chant or gift given to the Hooded Figures that would make the experiences stop. Things like that happened sometimes - the normal ups and downs of life, of summoning circles and underground gluten dealers. He could usually be comforted in knowing things would be fixed soon, if he gave the City Council enough time and on-air praise. But he had heard nothing even resembling his experiences, no matter how many interviews and leads he tried to follow or send interns after. 

He was curled up on his couch now, heart beating too fast to let him go back to sleep. It was only barely getting light out, about 5AM, and he could hypothetically get a little more rest in before he had to get ready for work, but these experiences were making him so high-strung. He used to love naps - he would nap before his games, nap with his poodle, Makkachin, whenever the weather wasn't particularly activity-friendly. And while he was still comforted by his hand on Makkachin's back, fingers sinking into the dogs curls and reminding him of where he was, it wasn't the same feeling. Something felt incomplete, inaccessible, like he had an idea or a thought on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite reach it - or, was afraid to. So he tried to just push it down. Remembering your dreams was overrated, and he couldn't fathom why people would keep dream journals. 

So, again, Viktor resigned himself to sleeplessness as he got up to turn on the coffee pot so he could start his day. The routine of work would at least be comforting. 

 

* * *

 

Viktor cleared his throat, sorting the papers in front of him while he waited for the larger clock hand to reach the 12 so he could begin his show. He used to begin his shows whenever he was ready, within a half hour frame or so, but station management had been getting irritable with that habit lately. He knew this because they sent a sweet-smelling notice asking - er, demanding - that he choose a time to start every day, save for emergencies or breaking news. So he’d rested on a start time of 9AM, which he was now resenting.

And then it was time.

“A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious dogs howl outside our windows while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale!” He began with the usual colorful description, his voice tinged with both the remnants of sleep and adoration for his little town. “Today the Secret Police wanted me to pass on an announcement before I begin with the news: there’s been some….disappearances on route 20. It seems that citizens have been ceasing to exist when they pass down this road for work, or school, or when they are simply making an effort to run away from the problems that await them at home. Two people have reported that extremely high speeds will prevent the disappearances, but the Secret Police would like to remind everyone that it is both inadvisable and illegal to go even a quarter mile above the speed limit.”

He paused, giving a moment for people to write down these directions in illegal journals, or recite them to a friend in more legal retention practices, and then continued with the day’s stories and news, including tips for beating the heat (what with the temporary ban on air conditioners), reports of angelic activity from Old Woman Josie (they were taking the batteries out of her household appliances for unknown and somewhat irritating reasons, but these remotes and radios had now been touched by angels, which increased their resale value greatly), and a reminder that Big Rico’s doors are always open for customers. Sometimes Big Rico’s welcoming smile makes you feel as if you couldn’t possibly resist, and that impulse shouldn’t be pushed away. Have a slice.

Viktor smiled when he had gotten to the bottom of his first page of notes, pleased to give a news piece that is actually out of the ordinary. “We have a new visitor in the town, citizens - a scientist! We haven’t gotten his social security number and blood types as of this moment, but helpful citizens were able to provide me with some descriptors, so you will be able to assess his threat level if spotted. They say he has gorgeous night-black hair, almost-matching matching oak-toned eyes, and large-framed blue glasses standing out against his face. I am told he is hard to look at because, in the words of local football player Chris, he has never seen such a beautiful man.”

“For a reminder on how to approach, talk to, and befriend an outsider, you may stop by the station or City Hall for a re-education session.” Viktor knew that he was supposed to be scared of outsiders, and he did feel distrustful of this man - why was he here, in this small town? It could have been their excellent sport’s teams, but that seemed uncharacteristic for a scientist. There was no information about his intentions provided, so Viktor anticipated that today or tomorrow he would have correspondence from the mayor to fill him in.

As the broadcaster began to relay the scores for last night’s baseball and sand hockey games, he could feel his irritation bubble up. Desert Bluffs had won both these games, but only because they cheated! The pucks seemed to have a supernatural attachment only to Night Vale’s net, and the baseballs would get too big to grasp whenever one of Night Vale’s players tried to catch it. And now Diane Crayton’s boy had a black eye. Desert Bluffs, Viktor knew, was not above cheating through magic - especially since the City Council refused to acknowledge the existence of magic, which made investigations into the matter a lot more difficult.

Viktor’s phone buzzed as he was listing all the Night Vale players that had sand kicked in their face last night (as a former professional athlete, he knew firsthand how unfair that was, because sand tasted gross and got everywhere), and he was able to slide it unlocked as he continued to speak, albeit a little less passionately since his attention was divided. There was a photo message from Pamela Winchell of a man Viktor had never seen before, captioned simply “Yuri Katsuki.”

His glowing skin was a soft amber to compliment his dark hair, and Viktor felt himself smiling. This scientist was perfect, and Viktor fell in love instantly.

During the weather, his new intern - Mila, her name was - slipped another paper onto his desk, giving him a smile as she sipped her coffee and left wordlessly. Viktor noticed that she pulled her phone out again when she got back to the booth, forgetting to put her headphones on and instead just grinning at her screen like the girl she had been talking to for the past few weeks was the first crush she’d ever had.

The paper in front of him was the write-up form from Yuri’s meeting to declare his intentions with the mayor. He wanted to rent a lab, and although scientists were noted for being secretive, not just anyone was allowed to set up experiments unless the mayor approved them - plus, Night Vale’s general approach to outsiders made it easier to have things squared away, to clear up some of the suspicion.

There was a lot of information on the stapled sheets that was blacked out because it was only for the mayor’s eyes, but Viktor did see something that immediately grabbed him: Yuri had stated that while Night Vale seemed to have many mysteries, almost too many to list or discuss (although it seemed he did try, farther down), the chief quirk interesting him was a rumor that people in the area were having dreams that seemed to tell a story in another version of the universe. He had considered going to Desert Bluffs first, but something about this city, this Night Vale, pulled him in. He had a good feeling about this place, he said.

Viktor’s throat clenched. He reread. Storytelling dreams? Could that be referring to his night terrors? It couldn’t be. Those were just anxiety - he was adjusting to a life that didn’t center around him being an athlete, and it was weird to him, like turning 40 or having your kids move out of the house. He was just adjusting. Right?

Or maybe he needed to run home, to check for fire. Or break-ins. Or he needed to stay away from his friends to avoid that crushing sense of heartbreak he woke up with one morning. He had tried to hard to will away the nightmares after they occurred, now he was grappling for purchase somewhere in his memory and drawing a blank, unable to make the pieces fit coherently.

His leg twitched like it was telling him to turn off the microphone and bolt, but the weather was coming to an end, the last few notes twanging and fading away, so he ground his teeth and forced himself back to a persona as he scanned the rest of the document and read bits and pieces he found interesting. It felt so natural to project his voice into the audio equipment, and he began to feel his muscles relax, allowing in the right amount of air.

“So listeners, apparently our new scientist is named Yuri!” His name sounded so sweet in Viktor’s tongue, he thought. “He has passed Mayor Winchell’s initial test! He will be setting up his labs, with the help of his assistants, near Big Rico’s pizzeria, the best pizza place in town. John Peters (you know, the farmer) reported that as Yuri drug his science equipment into the vacant building, he managed to look pretty even when sweaty. John suspected he came from somewhere a touch cooler than a desert, because he was reportedly flushed enough that it was hard for onlookers to assess if he was sunburned or too warm.” Viktor wondered if Yuri knew they made lab coats for hotter days. Sometimes scientists could be so dedicated to their aesthetic and gimmick that they would only wear stereotypical scientist garb, but stylish options were available.

There were more things to mention: the uptick in Hooded Figure appearances, another story about Old Woman Josie’s angels and how obnoxious they were when they tried to be backseat drivers, and this week’s horoscopes. Oddly, Viktor found himself smiling even as he was reading the more menacing ones (this week’s forecast for Scorpio was just, “Necrotizing is not a word you want to associate with birthdays, but you may want to exercise caution this month,” and Gemini had a similarly ominous, “You will have to find a different way to run away besides just using your legs”).

It had been a long time since he felt this excited over a stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want more gay content, my tumblr is gaykatsukiyuuri


	2. Listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost-meetings.

Now it was Yuuri’s turn to have trouble sleeping.

He had missed most of the local news radio for the past two days because he was being interviewed and then hauling supplies and equipment into his little lab, which he wished hadn’t eaten up so much time - according to his favorite assistant, Phichit, the radio presenter had said kind things about him, and (this was Phichit’s main point) he had a deep voice and a pleasant, hard-to-place-but-not-local accent. Yuuri found himself intrigued, but always too busy during the previous day's broadcast hours. He had tried to find some alternative ways to get a feel for the town - so far, he and Phichit grabbed a pizza at Big Rico’s, which was right outside their lab, and one of his other assistants, Mari, had gathered all of the business cards she could find. Some of them seemed to go up in flames when she tried to take them out of the shops, but she had tried her best. 

And he had seen plenty of strange things himself, just setting up - shimmering in the sky that threatened to rain more than water, clocks that seemed to drag much slower than the watch Yuuri had attached to his wrist, and what looked suspiciously like a pteranodon being pushed through a ring of murky light and then disappearing. He knew that didn’t make sense, and had chalked it up to a magic show or a trick of the light, but even so - how did they do the tricks? What technology did they have here? How long would it take for them to share with Yuuri? He was dying to know. 

Now it was late, at least for Yuuri - the clock that was in his apartment when he moved in said just before midnight. He tried to be in bed by 10, at least, but tonight he was scribbling notes and trying to make plans about what to explore tomorrow. He was determined to have his schedule open at 9 for the broadcast, and had set three separate alarms on his phone to tell himself to stop what he was doing and relax. Night Vale didn’t seem like the most welcoming city for strangers, but Yuuri hoped that would work in his favor, and let him explore without too much interference. The interview to get into the city was almost worse than American TSA, because he had a bit of stage fright - when everyone’s eyes (all of their eyes) were on him, he found it all much harder. 

A knock on Yuuri’s door sent a shiver down his spine, and he pressed down the pencil against his notebook so hard the lead snapped. His whole body was tensed, poised, his over-active fight-or-flight response already kicking in. Who would be here this late? Phichit was probably awake, but he would have texted to announce himself - he knew better than to make Yuuri jumpy. Plus, they were in the same apartment complex, so Yuuri likely would have heard another door open, footsteps above him - something. They’d already established that the walls were very thin by testing what music volumes and furniture-dragging would be distracting, and Yuuri had been able to tell when Phichit’s footsteps changed from bare feet to the soft padding slippered feet. 

Yuuri didn’t dare move. This town was weird, he knew that much. Weird, and not just in a fascinating way - sometimes in a way that seemed downright scary, like right now. 

A voice crawled underneath the door in a projected almost-whisper, saying, “Yuuri? Is this the right apartment?” Followed by another solitary knock. 

The part of Yuuri that wanted to be polite argued for a moment with his anxiety, but the anxiety (and self-preservation) won ultimately, and he stayed quiet, fingers clenching the armrest of the couch. He wondered if Phichit could hear the stranger’s voice, or his own heart beating. He didn’t recognize the voice outside his door, but he had heard very few people in the short time he had been in this town, so he wasn’t really able to narrow it down or count anybody out aside from “Not Big Rico or Mayor Winchell.” 

After a long pause, he heard a sigh.

“Yuuri, I meant to come by during the day! It’s Viktor Nikiforov. I do the radio show here in town and I wanted to know if I could get an interview any time soon! It’s been awhile since we had a scientist around.” 

Now he had a name for the voice, but it wasn’t very calming - this man was still outside his door, at midnight, being awful loud. Maybe he was not the silk-voiced man Phichit had made him out to be.

He heard a mumble of soft words he couldn’t make out. No more knocks, just a hanging quiet that he was bracing to hear breaking momentarily. 

Yuuri stayed quiet, just listening. Waiting for footsteps to retreat, or a car engine to rev to life, something. He found himself torn between being the icy prickles of anxiety and wishing he could hear the voice again. 

But now that he wasn’t focused on writing and planning, he felt the exhaustion start to seep more into his awareness, even though his body had just been tensed up. With wavering attention, his eyelids began to flutter shut...

 

* * *

 

He was jerked awake by more rapping on the door, this time accompanied by the friendly voice of Phichit, calling through even as he slipped his own copy of the key into the lock and barged in. Yuuri’s head swirled - he didn’t remember falling asleep last night, but he must have, because his notebook and pencil were on the ground, and the couch seemed to be cradling him in the sinking indent he had made. 

Yuuri blinked sleep out of his eyes and tried to focus on his friend, who looked chipper and awake - unusual, as he was usually more of a night owl than Yuuri. He beamed and declared without any hesitation, “I am  _ so _ ready for you to hear your boyfriend’s voice.” 

Yuuri somehow felt both anxiety and a blush rise up from his chest at once, one tightening his throat and the other darkening his cheeks. Phichit must have noticed him tense up, because he looked at his friend quizzically and carefully said, “Is there a particular reason you look like you were just dunked in cold water?” 

Yuuri fidgeted, stretching his limbs out to shake the grogginess out of them. He let his eyes fall to the watch on his wrist as he retold Phichit what happened last night, embarrassment welling up in his chest. In the light, with his friend so close, he started to feel a little silly - asking for an interview at midnight was maybe socially odd, but not something most people would interpret as threatening. Hopefully Viktor just assumed he was asleep, and not stuck-up or standoffish. 

Phichit, ever the optimist, sat down besides Yuuri, leaning his head against his friend, and said, “Stop worrying. Just listen,” as he opened the app on his phone that received radio reception. Yuuri was still a touch too drowsy to protest, and he had been looking forward to this this. The town was strange, but the two men felt comfortable in each other’s space, with each other’s touch, and it was enough to make Yuuri feel content. 

_ “If you hold still too long, you will begin to gather dust. Or is it that the dust has begun to gather flesh?  _

_ Welcome to Night Vale.”  _

Phichit was right. Yuuri’s primary emotion last night had been anxiety, but now he was fully able to take notice: the man’s voice, especially when made a touch more gravelly by audio equipment, was warm, very warm. 

_ “Hello citizens! First, I must congratulate the Night Vale Bed Bugs for their fantastic win yesterday - I’ve never seen a football game where I was so on the edge of my seat, and there was still a record low of broken bones! Star quarterback Christophe Giacometti is only suffering bruises today, and we are all very proud.”  _ Yuuri was drifting off. Football wasn’t his style; he had only ever really cared for skating back home, and some occasional casual dancing. 

He kept waiting for anything that could be a lead on the odd dreams his supervisor had mentioned back home - he was blanking on her name, oddly. He must have been very tired. She had been cryptic about it, telling him only the barest amount - that the dreams were prophetic in some manner, and they were important, for a reason he wouldn’t be able to understand just yet. And, of course, she added that they would be fascinating to study, which was enough for Yuuri. So he had left to pursue his passion, and ended up in Night Vale. 

_ “The City Council would like me to tell everyone that we are experiencing a small bit of a medical crisis, citizens. It seems that the underground organ donors - sneaky as they are - have put too many organs into the market, and doctors don’t know what to do with them. Supposedly, you could get a pair of lungs for $100 right now - most of them from young college students! To make sure these do not go to waste, please take them while they are fresh.”  _

Yuuri wrinkled his nose - most of them? Was there a lot of college student deaths here? Why wasn’t THAT being reported?? He was familiar with stress - his own degree had taken him an extra year - but it hadn’t _ killed _ him. 

_ “Young people of Night Vale: do not result to organ sales to pay for college! You are flooding the market, and now you hard-grown organs will only buy you a book, maybe two! Plus, it is illegal!” _

Wait - personal sales? Buying books? Were there people LIVING without their lungs? Yuuri’s brain started to turn over all the experimental literature he had ever read about assisted breathing, particularly studies focused in America, but he was almost immediately cut off by Viktor’s next words: 

_ “Last night, I wanted to get an interview with the town’s new favorite scientist, but he was asleep when I went to his apartment! Can you believe that, Night Vale?” _ He sounded genuinely indignant, and Yuuri’s stomach flipped; he wasn’t sure how he felt about being talked about on live radio, but again, there was a feeling of being flattered mixed in with the nerves. Someone was interested in him? Actually wanted to talk to him? 

He could feel Phichit smiling beside him. 

After a few more updates and stories, some of which seemed like complete nonsense to Yuuri (a psychic, telepathic pyramid, for example), the broadcast drew to a close with a simple, “Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight,” which seemed funny to Yuuri since it was 11:00 a.m. at the moment. 

Another voice came on for a moment, a higher-pitched but even voice, saying: _“Today’s proverb: ‘Live as if you were dying,’ was a phrase first popularized by lonely vampires,”_ and then the broadcast melted into a melodic tune, signaling, Yuuri figured, the end of the broadcast. 

Phichit shifted to get a better look at Yuuri, putting his phone down. “Did you like it?” His eyes were bright - he looked as excited as if he had been showing Yuuri his own project, or a new skating routine. 

Yuuri’s head was swimming with questions, but curiosity was always the greatest deterrent of anxiety for him, and he felt a grin break out on his face.

“I did.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri listened to five more episodes before he noticed anything of real interest. He took notes on the other things Viktor mentioned, always interested in Night Vale’s intricacies and the habits of their oddly artistic feral dogs, but he had been waiting for some sort of hint about the dreams, some evidence this wasn’t a fluke and he shouldn’t return...home. 

He and Phichit had been looking into the Dog Park - a strange area of Night Vale where residents were not allowed. It seemed like Viktor mentioned almost every broadcast that yes, the Dog Park was in fact still off limits. Yuuri had tried to approach it at many different hours of the day - the dead of night, the crack of dawn, the hottest parts of the afternoon. It seemed as though someone was always there - mostly the Hooded Figures that he heard Viktor bring up. They never explicitly yelled at them, but they had a way of glaring - even with sunken caves in their faces instead of eyes - that made you feel like you needed to get out of the vicinity. No matter how many times he tried to resist, some impulse would shoot up his spine and make him want to turn away. 

So he had never been inside, never even examined the doors or how they opened, because they were the most densely populated area of the perimeter. Despite his somewhat anticlimactic experience, there were were a few times when he was close enough to the walls to hear some of what was happening on the other side. Not much, and nothing concrete, just whispers - just the barest indication that there were voices on the other side. Sand crunching under feet, maybe - fittingly - a dog bark, and - a more concerning observation - heavy wings thrashing, but with more verve and gusto than any bird he could think of. 

_“Listeners...normally I wouldn’t interject a personal complaint into a professional news show, but I just have to take a moment…”_ he sighed, seeming defeated, and then picked up again, _“Have any of you been having nightmares, out in the audience?”_ Yuuri perked up immediately, staring at his phone, which was sitting on the counter while he ate breakfast. His felt his heart leap in his chest. 

Viktor paused for what Yuuri felt was a painfully long time, then continued, _“I ask because they seem to keep coming back. Normally when I accidentally join a cult or something like that, it gets fixed by the time the weather is over! But for the 7th or 8th time, last night I had the strangest dream. It felt like I had been walking forever, without a drink. I suppose I was in the desert, but it didn’t seem quite like our little slice of sand. I...I remember Josie’s tall, winged friends, I think?” Y_ uuri could feel the hesitation in the broadcaster’s voice, but he was only excited at this point, wanting to yell for him to keep speaking. Papers shuffled around, and other noises of movement that he must have normally taken care to keep away from the microphone seeped through to Yuuri's end. 

_ “They asked me for batteries, which I remember Josie mentioning the other day, so it’s probably just my brain sorting through episodes and the lives of my friends, nothing more meaningful. But I ended up -”  _ He cut himself off, and Yuuri thought he could hear muffled speaking. When he resumed talking, his voice had lost the vulnerability it had moments earlier, and he was back to a radio voice, saying, _ “Listeners, Mila has just informed me that the City Council hears my complaints and will look into my concerns as long as I stop talking about it on the air. Isn’t that fantastic? I love how much the elected officials in this city truly care about their citizens!” _

Yuuri heard footsteps bounding down the stairs almost as soon as the subject in the program shifted, followed by a thump as someone’s body fell forward at the base of the stairs. There was quick scrambling, and then the weight was on Yuuri’s door, rattling the knob and knocking with fervor. 

Yuuri let him in, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement under his skin amplify as the ball of energy that was his best friend practically danced through the door frame. He seemed to feel no unease as he retreated to the kitchen of Yuuri’s apartment, flopping down on a bar stool with delight plastered on his face. He took a second to catch his breath, and for a moment they were just quiet, bathing in mutual excitement. 

“Yuuri! You heard that, right? You have to go talk to him!” demanded Phichit, interrupting whatever words Viktor was saying now. Yuuri wanted to care about all of Viktor’s updates, but this next segment seemed to be about football games, and he was not particularly interested in that under normal circumstances. 

Yuuri’s smile faltered as he thought of talking to Viktor, thought of actually seeing the face attached to that smooth voice. It made him nervous - what if he thought Yuuri was being ridiculous? It’s not every day there’s scientists poking around in your town, especially one with odd ideas about physics. Somehow, this town where time moved slower seemed to find everything out of the ordinary except how out of the ordinary the city itself truly was. Yuuri didn’t want to be brushed off, or condescended, and he started running through all the ways Viktor could decided he wasn’t that interesting in his head, from bored dismissal to on-air meanness. Maybe he could just take notes, instead, and come to Viktor when he had more. Or he could have texted Viktor, if he had his number. 

But the broadcaster had sounded distressed. From Big Rico alone, Yuuri had surmised that this town was not particularly fond of open displays of unapproved emotion like the one Viktor revealed on the air, which made Yuuri feel all the more like this was important to talk to him about, despite the feeling of dread in his chest. 

“Will you come with me?” Yuuri asked carefully, figuring it was at least worth a shot, “I know you’d like to meet him too.” 

Phichit gave him a pointed look and responded, “Yuuri, how am I ever going to help my quest to have you dating if you insist on dragging me along as a third wheel at every corner? Go tell Viktor you have some questions for a project you’re working on, and then give him something else to dream about!”   


Yuuri’s skin brightened with pink undertones at Phichit’s straight-forward manner, and he quieted to think again while his friend smiled at him happily. Viktor could very well decide he didn’t like Yuuri, that was true. But - with a slow, controlled type of breathing he learned from a book - Yuuri cleared his head the best he could, and decided he had to try - had to attempt to bring some comfort to a stranger that he had become oddly attached to.  

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr is gaykatsukiyuuri say hi


End file.
